


Blank Pages

by jessicaannsavage



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Companionship, F/M, Fluff, Frustration, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Memory Loss, One Shot, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicaannsavage/pseuds/jessicaannsavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her unfortunate meeting with Benny back in Goodsprings, Six struggles to put the pieces of her shattered life back together, starting with remembering who she is, and Boone is there, scotch in hand, to make another restless night less miserable. Slow-burnin, not-quite-yet-relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank Pages

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure where i was going with this, but i love the idea that the courier doesn't have any memories from before that night, and that boone wants to help her find her old self. i also love the two of them being on the very cusp of a relationship ALL the time.

_Thwack._

The reverberations pull his focus from his rifle to the dusty hallway.

_Thwack._

Brows furrow as he strains, searching for a source.

_Thwack._

He slides from the chair, quiet like the gentle breeze, his hand resting on the handle of his blade. Sharp eyes search the shadows, his muscles tight. Quiet spills over the suite and he stops dead, eyes panning. 

  
_Thwack!_

It's harder this time, and so sudden he jumps. His eyes settle on her door, and in a moment his hand is twisting the handle, his heart in his throat.

_Thwack!_

Her eyes are as red as the hair that hangs mussed over the side of her face. Trembling fingers clutch tightly to a rusted dart, but her aim is still sharp as the dart lodges in the center of the board with more force than is necessary. 

_Thwack!_

"Six."

Her arm rips forward with such force she nearly stumbles.

_Thwack!_

"Six."

She lets the last dart rip before her fingers push the red mop back. 

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

The tone is even, measured, and he scans the room for discarded bottles or spent needles. 

"I was already up."

With excessive force she tears the darts from the board. 

"Why?"

Grey eyes lock on the faded red center as she takes her place.

"Doesn't matter. Why are you?"

She's silent for a moment, riddling the material with more holes.   
Arms cross over his chest as he leans against the archway. 

"Can't sleep."

Another point is buried, just off of the center.

"Why not?"

He locks on the angry red scar that hides just under the sheer blanket of fuzz.

"Can't stop thinking."

Another thwack, and the dart quivers a few more inches away.

"About?"

There's a slight shake in her knees as she lets the last one fly, missing the board completely and embedding it into the wall. 

"Shit I can't remember."

Voice defeated, her shoulders drop, and her chest heaves with a sigh. Lips part with a silent apology before he crosses the room to the liquor cabinet. He pulls the golden liquid from the top shelf - scotch, her favorite- and the clinking of the glasses in his hand almost mask her quivering sigh.

Drinks in hand he joins her on the end of her bed, both pairs of eyes glued to their feet as he hands her the drink. Before his lips grace the glass the liquid gold disappears down her throat in one gulp. With a hissing exhale she offers him the empty glass, and he doesn't deny her a second round. 

"We'll figure it out." 

His offer is soft, and he watches her out of the corner of his eye as she sips.

“Benny didn’t know anything about me, House didn't know anything about me, Nash didn't know anything about me, the Khans back in Boulder didn't know anything about me, Doc Mitchell didn't know anything about me,” she whispers as she swirls the liquid in front of her, “I was important enough to carry and die for this damn chip, but I wasn't important enough to remember.”

“Maybe not to them.” The corner of her mouth ticks up.

Silence falls between them as she stares, transfixed, mind somewhere else entirely.

“What bothers me the most is not knowing what I’ve done.” she whispers, still lost in the liquor.

“Does it matter?” he asks, a memory of her voice tugging at the back of his mind.

_“Doesn’t matter who you were then, Boone. It matters who you are now.”_

“I could’ve killed innocent people.”

He shrugs and sips again.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I could have been vicious, cruel.”

She runs her fingers through her hair, backward and forward again, messing the red strands more.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I could have- I could have been-“

“Doesn’t matter, Six.” He says again, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Her brow is furrowed when she looks at him.

“You’re not the same person now. Never will be. Doesn’t matter who you were before that night. You’re Six now.”

“Don’t you worry that you’re sharing a bed with a monster?”

“Don’t you?”

It’s not biting, not harsh, but her eyes soften, and her voice is a whisper when she speaks.

“Boone.”

He sips again and shakes his head.

“Nope. Thought never crossed my mind.”

“Seriously?”

He nods, slow and deliberate, turning the short glass in his hand.

“You’re Six. I know you. Know the woman you are. Never trusted anyone more.” He shows more than he meant to, but the look in her eyes when he says it drowns any regret he might have had.

“I wouldn’t change it,” she says after a moment, fixing those grey eyes on him, “I wouldn’t— wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.”

Her eyes dart to the floor, her confession making them both shift. His hand finds hers, thumb rubbing against her skin as their fingers interlock.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else beside me either.” he whispers, low and soft as he watches her grin from ear to ear.

With a nervous laugh she stands, turning to face him, her hands cupping his face.

“We make a good team.” she smiles, thumbs brushing across his cheeks.

He laughs, a short huff through his nose, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah. We make a great team.”

Her smile is soft, eyes hooded, and her lips find the bridge of his nose, just for a moment. A moment that’s over too soon, and leaves him stunned as she rests her forehead against his. His arms find their way around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, forehead to forehead, sharing shallow breaths, but it doesn’t last nearly long enough for him. When she backs away she pulls him along, and he follows with a ghost of a smile.


End file.
